Redeem Me

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Redeem Me…by Samayel

Chapter 38: Getting The Words Out

It was surprisingly easy to arrange a visit to Charlie and Dula’s that night, and Draco didn’t really mind going alongside Harry, except that, at some point that night, he’d need to get at least one very solid conversation in with Dula…alone. On the bright side, it was dinner, alongside Harry, at Charlie and Dula’s, and Draco felt a faint flutter of excitement when he stopped to realize that it might as well be a date…of sorts. For Draco, it was a genuine first, since snogging Pansy while trying not to retch or begging for mercy between screams didn’t really count as experience in that arena. It made him think hopefully of the things he had never done before, and it made him doubly sure that he only wanted to do those things if Harry would be there to do them with him.

Draco made use of his new clothes, making certain that if he was going to have supper elsewhere, then this time he’d be looking his best. The only moment of near trauma he experienced was in the bathroom, just after his shower. The mirror didn’t lie…he really did look better, but the scarring was still present on his upper legs, inner thighs, buttocks and back, and he knew that soon enough, they’d be dealt with…by Harry. Technically, Draco knew the technique for applying Scaradicate Salve, but the stuff was tricky to apply alone. Counter-clockwise circles from the right side of the affected area to the left. Every step was part of a theme of reversal, and while misuse did no harm, it lessened the effectiveness of later treatment, and Draco certainly didn’t want that to happen.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Harry’s hands on him, it was that he could scarcely stand ANY hands on him…even Molly’s, and the more personal the region of his body that was involved, the less he liked being touched. That complicated things a lot, and made Draco all the more eager to get away for the evening and just enjoy the company of others instead of dwelling on tender subjects. The fact that he had a mission, and Dula might play a part in accomplishing it, was just a bonus…if he could manage to bring the right topics up at all.

When the time came, Molly wished them well and sent along her blessings and some pastries for Charlie and Dula, and Arthur saluted them with his teacup in hand and wished them a pleasant evening. Harry and Draco took the Floo one at a time, and vanished in the traditional puff of green flame, stumbling out into Charlie and Dula’s small home.

Not that Draco thought it unsuitable, since despite its small size, it was both tasteful and understated, utilitarian and yet comfortable. Dula stepped out of the kitchen, smiling broadly, and welcomed them in.

“It is good to see you again. Draco…Harry…please make yourselves comfortable. There is room in the kitchen for all. Charlie and I have only just finished getting our main course into the oven. We have a little more to do before dinner is only a matter of waiting.”

Draco enjoyed the sound of Dula’s always vaguely formal English, even if the occasional syllable was pronounced thickly, and with a slight hesitation as he carefully chose his words. Dula was possessed of an easy going manner that put Draco at ease, and Draco pondered whether that was what he liked most about the tall, dark-complexioned gentleman. Harry started chatting as soon as he reached a kitchen chair, and Charlie listened while he stirred a dish that Draco didn’t recognize, while Dula relaxed and just enjoyed the warmth of the kitchen.

“Charlie, mate. Your mum sends her love to the both of you, and I left the pastries she sent along on the table in the living room. She wanted to know if you’ll be there on Yuletide like usual. We’ll see you there, won’t we?”

“Oh, aye. Of course, just tell mum we wouldn’t miss it for anything. Nights off don’t happen often, wouldn’t waste one even if I could. You two look better these days, things well at home?”

Dula interjected quickly. “It looks as though Molly’s cooking is doing what it should. You look very well, Draco. This is heartening. I trust you are both alright?”

Draco answered for the both of them, feeling quite a bit more comfortable here than he had in Diagon Alley.

“Better. A lot better. I…uh…I got a job. I start next week. The twins hired me to do their books for them…and Harry…Harry got me a wand. I ought to have it by the end of the week. I can barely wait. Molly is doing just fine, too. I know it spooked everyone then, but she’s been fine ever since she got the potion and learned her spells. Madam Pomfrey gave us both a check-up, and she got a clean bill of health.”

Harry looked a little surprised by Draco’s urge to speak, but took it as a good sign, thankful that Draco was comfortable enough to be forward for once. Watching Draco sit, wan and silent in the background, whenever there had been gatherings at the Burrow, just hadn’t set well with Harry, and this was an encouraging sight. Harry took a deep breath and savored the strange and yet familiar aromas in the kitchen. The ingredients seemed largely familiar, but he could tell it was a dish he’d never had before.

“Charlie? What’s in the oven?”

“You’re gonna love it, trust me! This is old traditional Czech fare. A little heavy, but so is food back home. It’s called ‘Teleci kyta s vinnou omackou’. One of Dula’s favorites.”

Dula arched an eyebrow and watched hungrily, closing his eyes and breathing deep as Charlie opened the oven and drizzled a sauce onto the food within.

“If you are wondering. In English, that would be a roasted leg of veal in wine sauce, with slivers of bacon buried throughout the roast, and vegetables cooked alongside it. There will also be potatoes, dumplings, and noodles as well. I assure you, no one shall go hungry this night. I would not betray Molly with these words, but Charlie is a very good cook.”

Draco breathed in scents that reminded him of better times, and smiled a little at Dula’s comment. He hoped it wouldn’t be gauche, but not knowing the dynamics of gay relationships, he hoped his question wasn’t impolite.

“Dula? Do you both cook? Or does one of you cook more than the other?”

Dula looked a little sheepish suddenly, then shrugged and answered.

“There are many things I do well. Sadly, cooking is not always one of them. I do not have that art. I have sometimes made meals, like the crepes, but they are never like my Charlie’s. I am better at things such as administration, and finance. It could be argued that I am perhaps a little more subtle than Charlie when dealing with people, but…as they say…the Gods do not place red hair upon a man for no reason at all…it is a warning.”

Dula delivered the last comment with a sly grin, knowing that Charlie would give him an exasperated glance.

“He always says that when he has an audience. Hmmph! You’d think my negotiating technique was putting people in a headlock until they accept my offer! He’s right about the numbers though. Can’t stand that part of the job. I’d ’ave pulled my hair out by now if it wasn’t for him. The only reason I got good at cooking is that, after I moved here, I was half starved for lack of Mum’s big suppers, so I started working out a few things I could do for myself. Now…here we are…and I could do this kind of thing blindfolded. Dula’s better than he makes it sound. I heard you had his crepes…wonderful, aren’t they? So don’t buy the act he puts on…just because he’s not a chef, doesn’t mean he isn’t brilliant in his own right.”

Dula looked suitably flattered, and couldn’t help staring fondly at Charlie while smoothly chatting with the others. Draco was a keen observer of his surroundings, very much out of past necessity, and he wasn’t blind to the silent looks of affection and humor that passed between Charlie and Dula so often.

‘Merlin. It’s like telepathy. They’re so close they say things with just a look and the other understands it. I wonder if Harry would be like that? Would it take five years to be this way with him? There are so many things I want to ask…how the hell am I going to fit them all into one conversation…especially out earshot from Harry!’

Dinner, when it finally came, was an informal affair that mostly involved clambering for helping after helping, and as fond of Molly as everyone may have been, it had to be admitted that Charlie had easily matched his mother’s talents. Draco had nearly stuffed himself sick, and was leaning back in his chair, finding it very strange to have a stomach that protruded for once. Harry had devoured his fair share as well, and was sluggishly discussing Ron and the Cannon’s performance with Charlie. Dula addressed Draco loud enough for the others to overhear it, and Draco practically sighed with relief.

“Draco…you have never seen the dragon pens here. Would you like a tour? Only those dragons which require close attention and care are near us, but there are still some fine specimens. Also, this will allow me to walk off some of what I have eaten. Charlie has outdone himself again. At least dragon handling is strenuous enough that we need the additional food to keep working as we do, but even I am feeling too full.”

Harry glanced up, and looked pleased by the idea.

“I’ve seen the pens a dozen times, so trust me, you’ll love it. Not quite as impressive as having one chase you when you’re on a broom and dodging fire, but it’s still amazing. Go on! You shouldn’t miss this!”

With Harry’s convenient support, and Dula’s prompt, Draco had a perfect opportunity to get away and talk for awhile, and he thanked his lucky stars that such a chance had come so easily. They bundled themselves in heavy fur coats, and Dula handed him a thick fur hat as well, then they strolled out into the Romanian night.

As it happened, they were far higher above sea level than at home, and the air was crisper and colder than Draco had expected. The heavy fur coat and hat may have been unwieldy, but now he knew that they were also necessary. Dula led him several hundred yards from the house, and cheerfully described the dozing dragons that slumbered in each pen. It was educational, to say the least, but Draco was champing at the bit to speak of other things.

Dragons, as it turned out, were inherently quite lazy, and only appeared energetic when hunting, mating or angered. Left to their own devices, only a few breeds were particularly dangerous. Sadly, throughout history, the dragon’s need for fresh meat led to raids upon docile livestock, earning mankind’s permanent enmity. Hundreds of species were already extinct, and of the few dozen left with solid breeding populations, only a few were large enough to be called secure…the rest were certainly endangered, and that was where the Conservatory fit into the scheme of things. A last attempt to study, train, and preserve the widest possible variety of species into the foreseeable future.

The specimens available were all magnificent, save for small visible flaws like poultices and bandaged wings, since the dragons kept near the house were usually under treatment for reasonably serious ailments. Draco couldn’t help but enjoy the lecture and lesson, despite the pressing need to work the subject back to himself…and Harry. Dula was too perceptive, however, to remain unaware of Draco’s tension, and after a lecture at one the smaller pens, he simply asked Draco what was on his mind.

“All is not well. You are not at ease. What troubles you?”

Draco put his hands on the stone wall of the pen, staring into the enclosure, trying to stay calm while he voiced things he had only kept to himself before.

“I needed to talk to you. Because I trust you. There are…things…I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about…that’s the real reason we’re here tonight. I felt like I had to see you.”

Dula remained still, letting the wisps of his breath curl away in the night air.

“You flatter me, Draco. I am very honored to have your trust. I am only glad you forgave me my outburst that night. I have worried over that since. You did nothing that merited being ill-handled. To see you here gladdens me, that I did not do you such serious insult. You are welcome here, and you may say whatever you will.”

Draco stood silent for a while, chewing his lower lip, unsure of how to ask certain things with any tact. It went against his judgment to blurt out personal questions, but he had very little other choice.

“Dula…I…I’m not well yet. Not really. Not the way I want to be. I have so many things I have to think about…I just don’t know what to do. Dula…I don’t want to ask this of anyone…I don’t want to insult you…but…but…I need to ask you a personal question…or two…or three. Gods! I feel like a prat asking this!”

Draco was shuddering, not from the cold, but from tension, and words were coming with great difficulty at the moment. Dula exhaled sharply, and puffs of white rolled before him, between the heavy bars of the pen.

“Draco. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Not here. If I can help, you must know that I will, as would Charlie. Speak your mind.”

Draco’s answer was hushed, and Dula strained to hear it properly.

“Dula. What…what’s it like…when you…or Charlie…or… Whatisitliketomakelovetosomeone? Is it…does it feel good…or…damn it! Dula, I just don’t know! I wanted to know…what…what makes people want to do that so much. And…and…I…I don’t know what it’s like. I…I never did anything…because I wanted to…before. I can’t even stand being touched, but I think about Harry, and I wish I could, so much that it hurts, but I can’t…I just can’t. Help!”

The last word came out a croaked and mangled ruin, while Draco clenched the metal bars of the pen and ground his eyes shut to keep from losing his self control.

Dula remained silent and still for a few seconds longer than Draco was comfortable with, and he feared he’d offended his host after all.

“N-never mind…I’m sorry. I-”

“No. I did not mean to worry you. I…I am just terribly sorry. I am sorry that someone so young, and so very handsome, should have such worries. What can I tell you? Should I tell you details that are not all mine to share? Or should I tell you what will give you hope? Perhaps I should caution you that sometimes even things that ought to go well might fail you in the end. I do not know everything…and I would not want to lead you wrong. Please do not put your faith in flesh. What happens between people…it is not governed by simple rules. It is always different…with everyone. I can tell you that Charlie pleases me…and that I take very great pleasure in his company. He is…patient…and still powerful. Vigorous…and gentle. Fierce…and loving. I should be ashamed to ask for…or expect…more. I would risk everything, sacrifice almost anything, to keep this. I still think it wrong to taunt you with these things…because for you it has been different, and it will always be different from what I have known. Is there more you wish to know?”

“Dula…please tell me. When you…and Charlie…make love. What…what do you do? Please?”

“Are you asking what I think you are? If…if you are asking what my ’role’ is…”

Draco nodded quickly, refusing to look in Dula’s direction, taut and miserable with embarrassment.

“I see. You need advice, but you want to get that advice from someone with practical experience? There is more. I can feel it, but I will give you your answer. With Charlie, and with myself, roles, or positions, mean nothing. There is nothing I would not do with my lover. I hesitate to use the word passive, for we are neither of us that, but if I were to say that, giving, and receiving, is shared without a thought, would that assure that you are speaking to someone who can answer your questions? Again, it is different for everyone, and I can only offer what I know.”

Draco let a savage sigh of relief free and rested his head against the bars. He was still reeling from getting the words out, when the realization that Dula and Charlie…well…took turns, struck him. He’d rather imagined that Dula was the more passive of the two, and he wasn’t even sure why he’d thought that. Perhaps…

’Because he’s a little like me. I thought it because…because he’s…he’s what I want to be like. Confident, elegant, not a total mess who can barely talk about sex! I didn‘t even think that he might be…the aggressive one…sometimes. But that‘s the point, isn‘t it…I don‘t know a damn thing about this stuff…except what I learned…before.’

“I just thought…I thought that…I might. SHITE! This is hard. Dula…I don’t even know the names for things or acts, except for things that are insults. I think I’m…or I would have been…passive.”

Draco let his breath out again in an explosive sigh, and this time a torrent words followed.

“I dream about it. I think about it when I think of Harry. It’s all I seem to want. I…I want to feel him…inside of me…around me…with me in every way. I want to be with Harry, like a lover, but I can’t. I know they didn’t tell you the details about what happened to me. You know I got hurt. You…you don’t know how fucked up I really am.”

Dula shifted his feet nervously. He’d realized long before that Draco had been victimized, and badly, but as much as he wanted to help, a creeping sense of horror was filling him. Draco needed to let these things out, and he had offered himself as someone who would listen. Now was the telling moment, and he feared that what he heard might be more than he could handle. His voice came out a throaty whisper.

“Go on. I will think no different of you for what you say.”

Draco kept his face pressed against the cold metal of the bars, and stared at the sleeping dragon in the pit below. Iridescent scales glittered in moonlight while the creature below breathed deep and slow in its sleep.

“I was taken captive. By Death Eaters. One of them was my uncle…by marriage. I lost my virginity to my uncle…then he gave me to his henchmen. They hurt me every way that a person can be hurt. They tortured me, and raped me, Dula…for months. I think I’m only sane because my mind shut down at some point. There was nothing else they could do to me that hurt more than what they’d done, so they addicted me to Muggle drugs, then amused themselves by refusing me the drugs and watching me beg for the privilege of being raped. When I had no spirit left, nothing, and I just did whatever they wanted of me without a word, they got bored and dumped me in Muggle London. It had been almost a year since I’d been anything but their fucking pet.

Muggles found me. They took me in, got some drugs that helped me heal a little, and some others that helped me get through being addicted. I wasn’t really aware of much then, and…and I did things without thinking…just responding to what I’d known for a year. I…I whored myself…because that was how they survived too, and because I think I believed that was what entitled me to food and shelter. I don’t think they expected it of me…not anymore, but I didn’t know how else to respond to anyone…fuck! It took more than a week before I even spoke! I was just happy for a blanket, clothes, and food. It was easier than anything my uncle and his cronies did to me. I only left because another Muggle, one that these people were afraid of, found out I was there, and…I think he wanted me for himself. He waited until the others were gone, then…then he raped me. It was too much. I ran off afterwards, and found my way to Diagon Alley’s London entrance. That’s how I wound up coming to the Burrow. They know parts of it, but only you know all of it.

Dula…how do I know if what I feel for Harry is…real? How could I want something like that…after everything? Am I just thinking of it…because I’m still…still crazy? Or would I still want the same things, even if none of it had ever happened and I just met Harry for the first time today? I know all about what people do to each other…but I don’t know anything about this. Please. Please help me understand it.”

Dula fought the urge to vomit, praying that Draco would not notice, and interpret his disgust at the actions of others as some form of disapproval. He was well aware that evil lurked in every human soul, but what Draco had endured, it was more like the work of demons than men. Dula steeled himself to speak, betraying nothing that might accidentally hurt the young man beside him. Draco deserved better than to be wounded by a tremulous voice or a careless look.

“Draco, I do not know…if you desire Harry by chance or by choice. I cannot tell you this. I can tell you that Harry is a gentle soul, and that when he cares for others, he cares for them with great passion. Whatever has brought you here, right or wrong, the choices are yours now, and you can make of them what you will. I should tell you this though…to love, you are a virgin. What was stolen from you was innocence, but you have not given anything in love, and so you still wait to discover what that means. What…what happened to you at the hands of others…Draco, I promise you that love is nothing like that. It is better. It is good. Even when it is flawed, as all people are flawed, there is no comparing the two, save to say that they are as different as night and day. Harry cares for you very much. I do not think you would suffer at his hands, if he gave himself to you in love.”

Draco closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths. Saying what had happened, it made it all so very real. The night air felt colder, the starlight dimmer, and the world felt like a larger and more frightening place then ever. It was real. He wasn’t going to wake up in a cellar, on a stone floor, free of any responsibility beyond surviving another day. This…this was life. And it was terrifying.

“Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. How long would he stay with someone he couldn’t touch. He’d get tired of someone who wakes up screaming, or needs spells just to sleep for a few hours. I know he cares…a lot, but I don’t see how I could ever have what I want, and give him anything he deserves. I just don’t see it, Dula.”

“I have seen you touch him, Draco. It is clear that you do not like others touching you, but do you think he would not accept letting you decide what you are comfortable with? I do not think Harry is so unreasonable, and what he deserves or does not deserve…is that not for him to decide? Do you think perhaps Harry’s happiness lies in more than mere sex? If Charlie and I had no gender, no desire, no spark of lust between us, would I enjoy seeing him beside me in the morning any less? Would I turn away from the warmth of his arms for want of an orgasm? I do not think so. Love is not so simple. You will only know these answers when you speak with Harry. In the end, it comes to that. You must let his part in your feelings be just that…his part. Until you do this, you will always wonder, always doubt, and never know. Talk to Harry. Though I can promise nothing, I do not think you will regret it. It is only my suspicion, but it is likely that Harry is letting you decide what you want, for fear of making you uncomfortable. If he knows of some of what you told me, I think he would keep his silence as best he could, rather than risk hurting you. Given how much he seems to care for you, does this not seem true?”

Draco’s mind tried to wrap itself around Dula’s words. It was more than he could comprehend at the moment, but a seed of hope had sprung to life inside him.

’I can touch him. I know he doesn’t hate me, and I know he cares about me…a lot. If…I can touch him…some…that would be something for him. I’d…I’d just have to trust him to not expect more. But do I trust him that much?’

“M-maybe. Maybe it is true. That…that’s something. Thank you, Dula. I don’t know what else to say. You make me think things are possible that…that seem too far away to be real right now. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“You are very welcome, Draco. You do not seem to me a wicked person, and I am, at least according to some, a good judge of character. You deserve better than what has been dealt you in this life. If I can help you to find a way that suits you, I will, and so would Charlie.”

The atmosphere around them relaxed, as Draco let himself unwind and push away the tension that had knotted through him. Dula could sense the change, and relaxed accordingly.

“Dula. I have other problems…or rather…Harry has a problem, and you won’t like what’s at the core of it.”

Dula creased his eyebrows with curiosity, unsure of what Draco meant.

“I think it involves a Horcrux.”

And Draco waited for the fireworks, already tensed for Dula’s outburst. An outburst that didn’t come. Dula looked at the ground, sighed deeply, and shrugged.

“I was afraid of as much.”

Draco could have been knocked over with a feather.


TBC!!!